2007 Pride
by QuidditchQuitter
Summary: Oneshot taking place during events of the Deathly Hallows. Draco Malfoy shows up JUST in time to side with Potter after all; and to see the antics of London Pride!


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Title: 2007 Pride

Rating: T

Author's Note: Harry/Draco slash. While the title is deceptively modern, don't be fooled: This little oneshot is my first story to take place _during_ the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows! Imho, it was asking to be written, and many more are. Possible sequel to come, but unlike my other stories (which sometimes take too long to finish) this is lighter on plot and heavier on getting down to business. If you read the Deathly Hallows recently, however, you should be able to make quite a few connections. Reviews help me keep going strong! Hope you enjoy!

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**2007 Pride**

"It's _this_ way, you dolt!"

Malfoy grabbed Harry's wrist and yanked him along the alley, dodging in and out of rowdy clusters of partiers. Harry ducked and tried to resist looking back as they pushed through blurring crowds of multicolored hair and glittery attire.

"Why can't we Apparate?!"

"Not _yet_. Not till we're out of sight. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm being traced?"

"Hermio-"

"We'll get to them eventually. Till then, you'd just better pray she won't be stupid enough to follow!"

Harry clapped his mouth shut and let Malfoy weave them through the crowds and up another alleyway. Behind him, he could hear what he was certain were angry shouts, but whether they came from their Ministry pursuers or the passersby with whom they collided, he could not be sure.

All he knew was that, despite the pounding of his heart, he was relieved that Malfoy had shown up when he did.

There was no time to question Malfoy's intentions. There was no one else.

Malfoy's grip was surprisingly strong. Harry felt pain as Malfoy flung him ahead, releasing him, and slowed to a more normal pace. There were fewer revelers here. The sun had retreated behind the buildings of the main district.

He turned to look at Malfoy, rubbing his sore shoulder, deciding whether or not to be angry.

"We'll be safer here, among the crowds. They all seem too busy to recognize you."

"Or you."

"Yeah." Malfoy looked about him distractedly. His blond hair was settling in a staticky mess about his face. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a wand, and-ignoring Harry's flinch-conjured a Quidditch cap. When he put it on, he didn't look especially noticeable.

"What were you doing at the Ministry?" Harry asked, staring at him.

"Looking for _you_. I had to nick someone's wand, too, so I'd appreciate it if you'd return mine to me."

Harry ignored this.

"So you've decided to help us. Or have you?"

"Obviously."

"Torturing classmates didn't sit too well with you, then?"

"I could find better ways to spend my evening," Malfoy returned without missing a beat. "At any rate, Loony was the last straw. It's one thing to go about punishing witches and wizards who've had it coming for years, but picking on someone like Lovegood-that's just unfair."

Harry snorted, tactfully choosing not to indulge his feelings on these remarks. _The important thing_, he told himself, _is that Malfoy came back for us._ Then a thought occurred to him.

"How do I know you aren't here just to lure us back to Voldemort?"

At this, Malfoy's expression soured to true distain.

"I guess you don't. But if you'd rather tell me to sod off, nevermind that I just saved your _life_-"

"Keep your shirt on. I was just asking. You haven't been exactly helpful when it comes to the Death Eaters, you know. And don't be so dramatic; my life wasn't in danger."

Malfoy looked as though he were about to say something equally scathing, then seemed to change his mind.

"Well, if that's how you feel about it, I suppose I wouldn't have expected more. In the meantime, you'll have to do with my assurance that, as much as I'd rather be doing just about anything than standing here with you, I know what side I'm on, and it's not Voldemort's."

The finality of this declaration surprised Harry, and he said nothing. Looking around, he realized that on the streets were more Muggles than true magic folk; at least, that's what he suspected. He wondered if Malfoy knew this.

"What are they all celebrating, anyway?" Malfoy turned up his nose, peeking around the alley wall.

Harry surveyed the colored streamers, the displays of affection and what appeared to be the beginning of a parade.

"Looks like a pride walk," he murmured, taking in the numerous pairs of same-sex couples.

"A _what_?"

Did they even have those for witches and wizards? He wondered, and shrugged. Malfoy would figure it out.

"Come on, let's go." He began to head toward the crowds again, and Malfoy followed uncertainly.

"We can stay lost in the crowd, but it's better the longer we're here. Where are you going?"

"Somewhere I can safely Apparate."

"I told you! You can't! It's-"

Shouts came from the other end of the alley, and Harry instinctively knew that, though he could not imagine how it was possible, their pursuers were still on their trail. He grabbed Malfoy and pulled him violently into the streets, where they were jostled by Muggles waving flags and balloons and snogging out in broad lamplight. They pushed through an entourage of nearly bare-breasted, leather-clad women and stumbled past a circle of men in varieties of drag who had just decided to spray the crowd with several pounds of a glittery, sticky confetti mixture. Both he and Malfoy were drenched.

Someone whooped in his ear.

"Fuck!" Shouted a disgruntled Malfoy rudely, and under different circumstances, Harry thought he probably would have laughed.

"Quickly!"

They found their way to a crowded apartment stoop, at which they could go no further for the crowd. Looking back, Harry thought he could see several bursts of what looked suspiciously like magic in the throng. People were thrust back, and there appeared to be some kind of scuffle. The disturbance pushed toward them. As the crowd pinning them to the wall surged, Harry caught a full-faced glimpse of one of the wizards who had chased them from the Ministry of Magic. He looked him right in the eye, but could not tell if he had been recognized. From the sound of Malfoy's low swear, he knew he had seen him, too.

In a moment of wild inspiration Harry grabbed him, shoved him against the brick stoop, and kissed him.

Malfoy's lips were wet and pliant as Harry crashed against him. His body had frozen, but he did not push Harry away. The sounds of the angry disturbance continued past them, seeming to go by in slow motion. Long after they had died down, Harry was still pressed against Malfoy's body, their lips now doing a mutual dance of feigned affection.

Harry released Malfoy and stared at him.

Malfoy was gripping the front of Harry's shirt awkwardly, as if he had decided to play the part but was still warming up to it. Malfoy's grey eyes were looking right back at him, unreadable, and he had not moved.

There was a ringing in Harry's ears as he felt his heart pounding; something odd had happened. In his head, his voice screamed, _Pull away!!!_ But for some reason, he didn't. Instead he stood there, acknowledging a growing warmth that spread from his abdomen outward. The fingers that were lightly resting on Malfoy's waist tingled, and he trembled. He knew this feeling.

If Malfoy had pulled away at that moment, or pushed him off, that would have been the end of it. He often reflected later how odd it was that he did not.

Feeling compelled by something in Malfoy's quiet stare, and perhaps emboldened by the free-for-all of the celebrating couples around them, he felt something click in his head. As he readjusted his left arm around Malfoy's waist, he decided that doing exactly what he felt like doing, at this moment only, felt _right_, and what happened after did not matter.

His other hand he lifted, resting it momentarily on Malfoy's shoulder. Then, stroking his neck lightly, noting the blonde strands of soft hair that covered his fingertips, he pulled Malfoy close and kissed him more fully this time.

Malfoy's lips felt warm as they responded with slow, measured, practiced pressure. He was a good kisser. They locked their bodies together, pressing chest to chest as they embraced. A couple of people whistled and someone else whooted.

Harry admired the softness of Malfoy's hair tangled in his fingers, marveling at how much it reminded him of Ginny or Cho's. Malfoy's mouth was stronger than theirs had been, seeming to fight with Harry's to take the lead-but his lips were remarkably soft. Their moist, soft receptivity turned him on; he could feel a familiar expansion of arousal throughout the lower part of his body, although it seemed _sharper_ somehow, more pronounced-the best part of kissing someone new was always the first time, he mused sluggishly.

He did not know how long they stood there, but was aware that they were lingering, neither ready to stop. Malfoy's breath quickened, keeping time with his own whenever they stopped just long enough to breath and begin again. It seemed that their mouths were glued together, and Harry was certain that Malfoy had had a lot of practice. He was glad he had done the same that last year…

It seemed like the world of the war with Voldemort had temporarily all but melted away when they finally slowed, their kisses now comfortable, now committed. There would be no erasing what had passed between them, Harry reflected, as he allowed them to slowly separate. They gazed at each other's chests, neither seeming to be able to meet the other's eyes.

"We'd better get going," Malfoy finally said, his voice low and husky as if he had just woken up.

Without another word, Harry took him by the hand-this time, clasping it as if it were the hand of a lover-and led him through the crowd.


End file.
